I never knew my father.

My mom said he was in the military for a long time, so our family got a steady check thanks to his years of service. I guess that's why she never worked, like the single moms of a lot of kids at school.

So she was always around to drive me to soccer practice, hockey practice, little league... she was usually the one who took the team out for pizza when we won, and ice creams when we didn't and needed cheering up. 'Mom's Taxi' was almost always available when one of the other single moms got tied up and needed a rescue shuttle to pick up one of my team mates or even other kids from my class. Mom said she knew how hard the other moms had it trying to juggle work and family. She knew how lucky we were because she didn't have to 'punch a clock'. We had my fathers pension check and she picked up outside work from home on her computer. When she met other moms at PTA, parent teacher conferences or other school events, she let them know she was always around if they ever needed a bail out. No one abused the privilege, but it still kept her busy.

I came to resent the fact that we would drive all over town dropping off my team mates or picking up some girl from my school after her dance class because mom got a panicked call from some mom whose replacement never showed up or something. I resented the other kids because she was MY mom, and she should be doing stuff for me, not the whole school.

While I wanted my mom all to myself, I also wanted nothing to do with her, and told her on every occasion I could. Everyone else thought my mom was cool and I resented that too. I hated all the things she did for others, trying to buy their friendship and respect. Personally, I thought she was smothering. ...Always at my games.... and that time I got into a school play because I wanted to get closer to Daphne Culhane. She was at every performance. It got SO embarrassing. I apologized to everyone else in the play because she was being so stalker-y. I thought people would find it as creepy as I did. Not the audience, since other parents only made one show – if any. But Mr Becker the drama teacher must have noticed. I apologized to him for it and he seemed really OK with it. He said I should be proud. I just smiled and told him he was a really good actor and thanks for trying to make me feel better about my creepy helicopter mom.

She never gave me any peace. Always asking about my day, and my friends... how my team was doing. It was exhausting. I used to try sneaking in after school so I could avoid the spanish inquisition. The only way I could ever get her to shut up was to start asking about my dad.

She never wanted to talk about him. So I always wanted to talk about him. I did pry some info from her. They separated before I was born, but he really loved me and they stayed married to the end so I'd always be taken care of. Mom said she was widowed just after I was born, and it was really rough, but we got through it. I was the most important thing in her life and she wanted to make sure I always knew that.

'Guilt trip' I thought scornfully.

I never let mom forget that a boy needs a dad. Looking back, there were times I was so adamant that she was no substitute for a dad, I think I almost brought her to tears. I was always ready to use her waterworks as more proof that I needed a Male role model. But she never gave me the chance. She would just bite her lip and ditch me... walking to her room to sulk for hours, while I was brooding in the living room thinking 'Great. Still no dad, and now a mom who abandons me to go off on her own.'

Actually there were a few guys, but I never saw them as 'dads' no matter how much they tried to hang out with me and do 'guy stuff' with me. They were all GI Joe types, and I knew they were only there to bang my mom. Trying to be nice to me and take me camping or fishing or to scouts or whatever was just a way to get mom to be nicer to them. It wasn't going to work. I saw through them.

When I was about 15 or so, mom brought the last one home. I made some crack about 'what, is it fleet week again?' And I saw the veins pop from the dude's neck. Mom was horrified and embarrassed. Which was my plan all along. It worked. She calmed him down and took him somewhere to talk. He came out a few minutes later, shot me a dirty look, and left.

Then mom laid into me for being rude and obnoxious and started the whole 'this is not how I raised you!' thing. I was impervious. She was the whore, bringing home all these guys and making them 'play dad' with me. When she mentioned that they were all honorable men and didn't deserve the crap I gave them, I wasn't buying it. I just shot everything she said down.

Until she mentioned that they all served with my father, and came as a favor to him.

So I asked her if she was sleeping with his buddies before or after he died.

That was the only time she ever struck me.

Actually it was a slap, and the only thing hurt was my pride. Still, I was furious. The only word I could get out in my rage was 'slut'.

Still, that was one more word than she got out. She just glared at me, the fury swelling on her face. She spun on her heels and stormed to her room.

We didn't talk at all for a week. And pretty much never after that. She tried to mend fences, but I was never going to let that happen. I had to stay there until I was 18 and I was gone.

As graduation loomed, I searched for the most distant college I could find. So I found myself in Vancouver Washington. Three timezones from my meddling mom and her string of soldier boys.

The only contact I wanted from her was at tuition time. I never opened her birthday or Christmas cards.

I was always OK at holidays, because the campus was full of hot girls, and I was a player. I could always play 'the one you want to take home to family' role. Girls parents always loved me, especially when I played the orphan card. It was true in a way. I never knew my dad and my mom was dead to me. I was on my own and doing fine.

Sophomore year I got the call. I recognized her number on the caller ID. If I never opened her cards, why the hell did she think I would take her call? She called about 8 times before giving up. I just deleted all the voicemails unlistened. Then I got calls from other numbers I didn't recognize, but they had her area code. How stupid did she think I was? That was a transparent trick

Delete delete delete.

Finally campus security showed up at my dorm. Mom had been in an accident and I was given a number to call. Oh, great. So now I'm expected to leave school to go visit – or worse, take care of her?

Nope. Just to bury her.

It was some lawyer. He was the backup name on her phone's ICE list. He made the arrangements for my flight back and met me at the airport.

Another jarhead.

“Let me guess. You served with my dad?”

He nodded.

“Well, you guys are everywhere. I muttered.”

“A lotta years. Lotta water under the bridge. But the respect never faded. I'm sure they all feel the same.” he said quietly.

“He must have been quite a guy. Only wish I knew him.”

“You never really did.” he muttered, looking at me sadly.

We talked in the car as he drove me to the house I grew up in. He had a spare key, which was a good thing, because I left mine on my dresser the day I left home, with the note saying I'd never use it again.

It was weird. The house was the same. Even my room was the same. She kept it as if any day I'd be back. Mike Dautrieve, mom's 'lawyer friend' told me what happened. Bunch of kids, drunk, maybe a little high, texting and speeding. They didn't notice mom stopped at the railroad crossing. Lucky for them, rear ending her flipped their truck sideways so only she hit the train. He said it was instant and she didn't suffer. The kids were all banged up and facing charges when they got released from the hospital. When they extracted her, her bag and the phone in it were amazingly unscathed. She was always organized, which I always resented. Her 'In Case of Emergency' numbers were right on her home screen of course. That was when I began getting the calls.

Since it took so long to reach me, and – of course, she already had 'contingency plans in place' – as always.... Mike made arrangements with the funeral home and the insurance, and called my school to locate and notify me.

All I had to do was show up at the funeral.

Good thing I was family, because it was so crowded I might not have gotten in.

All the parents of kids I went to school with and many of the kids themselves showed up. They all told me how sorry they were for my loss, and told me piles of mom stories. I tried to be polite and thank them for coming, explaining that they didn't all have to tell me a story, but everyone wanted to and everyone did. And I had to stand there and take it. I just tried to count down the hours until I could go back to school.

I met some guy named Dave who I never saw before, claimed he was my uncle. One of my dad's family, and the only one who would come. I didn't know any of my extended family on either side. Mom would never talk about them and I guess they didn't get along any better than Mom and I did. Dave split after the service and before the cemetery, so I never got to ask.

All my 'wannabe dads' seemed to be there too. Only they didn't talk about my mom. They talked about my dad. These were stories I wanted to hear. Stories I never heard growing up no matter how much I'd insist. They talked about Kuwait, and Iraq and the first gulf war. About Somalia and the Balkans and being stationed in Germany. There were a lot of funny stories and amazing stories and I finally got why all these guys loved my dad's memory. Even to trying to come out and help with me.

They never had anything going with mom. She called them and they came as a favor to my dad. Guess I got it wrong. I thanked them and said how much I wish I knew my dad. Just like Mike Dautrieve, they all, to a man, looked at me the same way and said 'you never did.'

After the service and the bit at the cemetery, everyone went to the legion hall for drinks. They let me tag along, and got me in as the son of their fallen comrade and honored guest. The hours we spent there were spent talking about my dad and I never wanted it to end. I guess they didn't have much use for my mom either because none of them so much as mentioned her. I was totally fine with that.

The more they talked, the more I wished I knew him. Mike Dautrieve was the one who drove me home, telling me to call him the next day to begin settling the estate.

I don't know which of us was more surprised when we finally got into it. He could not imagine how I never figured things out, especially after the last 48 hours. And I couldn't imagine how I had been so willfully blind and never figured it out my whole life.

Dawn Lassiter raised me my whole life and never lied to me. My other parent, Ronnie, died shortly after I was born. From complications during childbirth. My surviving parent and Ronnie's separated but still legal spouse, claimed me and raised me.

I can't imagine the hell. Finishing decades of military service and finally acknowledging the truth that would never be asked and could never be told, amicably separating from a spouse and beloved companion and going off to begin transition. With no idea that Veronica would take the sperm banked so long ago, before his first field deployment, and try to have and raise alone, unknown to him... the family they once both talked about wanting.

When Ronnie died and 'he' was contacted as the surviving parent, 'he' was blindsided and well on the way to becoming Dawn. But she stepped up. I think raising a family was one of many things given up to transition. But fate intervened, and my surviving parent raised me as my mom. The only parent I ever knew. I think back on all the pain I caused her and the unwavering devotion she returned, until her dying day.

I am looking back on my entire life, seeing for the first time what was always right before my blind eyes.

I never knew my father.